


Mealticket

by nottonyharrison



Series: Keep Telling Yourself That [period] Good Girls prompt fics and ficlets [10]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26929231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottonyharrison/pseuds/nottonyharrison
Summary: She narrows her eyes and shoves her hand hard into his shoulder, and he winces. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Series: Keep Telling Yourself That [period] Good Girls prompt fics and ficlets [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964842
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Mealticket

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted as part of one work that was to archive all of my prompt stories. I've decided to go the series route instead, so sorry if you've already read this!  
> 'i thought you were dead’ kiss, and ‘shove me against a wall’ kiss  
> Another one set during an undefined post season 3 timeline where Beth and Rio are working together as a tentative team.

He lets out a stuttering breath as his back slams into the concrete slab wall behind the warehouse. Her eyes are daggers, and her body is tense and rigid. It’s kind of turning him on.

“Damn, you been workin’ out?”

She narrows her eyes and shoves her hand hard into his shoulder, and he winces. “Don’t you _ever_ do that to me again.”

“Yeah well if you’d gone home like I told you to, you wouldn’t have seen what went down, would you?”

He flicks his arms, and the wet slap of whats left of the river he’s soaked in splatters against the asphalt.

“I thought you were _dead_.”

He stretches his mouth in what he hopes is a dazzling, carefree grin. “Yeah well I ain’t am I, so can we go home now? Your mealticket lives to see another day yadda yadda _oh my god_ it’s cold.” He shivers and crosses his arms over his chest.

And then she slaps him. Hard.

‘You’re a fucking _asshole_.“

He rocks his jaw from side to side and glances away long enough for it to be a shock when her lips are on his, and she’s pushing him back into the cold concrete. The noise he makes is involuntary, its a deep moan that rumbles up through his chest. He presses back, sucking on her lower lip and biting down until her hands are wrapped around his neck, and she’s shoving herself hard against his soaked clothes.

He wonders for a moment if he really did die in that river, and this is his brain’s last gasp attempt at giving him a happy memory to go out on, because her ass is so soft under his fingers, and her mouth is so hot and slick against his, and they haven’t done this for months hell… more than a _year._

But it’s over as quickly as it began, and she’s stepping away. His cheek is still stinging where her palm impacted, and he lifts his hand up to rub at the throbbing skin.

"You get that out of your system?” She glares at him. Her lips are swollen, and her lipstick is smeared. She wipes her mouth and looks away, and his heart flutters in a way it hasn’t since that day in his loft. The time before she shot him. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

She looks down at the ground and mumbles something.

“Huh?”

“Can we stop for waffles on the way?”

And then he’s bent over, laughing until his chest is burning and he can feel tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“What’s so funny? It’s five in the morning, I’m hungry.”

He takes in a few gasping breaths, and twists his mouth into a wry smile. “Sure, whatever you want.’

“Shit, you’re soaked are you–”

“It’s fine, we’ll get you your waffles. Last thing I need is you slappin’ me again because you got low blood sugar.”


End file.
